"This is ridiculous," Damien grumbles, popping his heel into the snowshoe. 

What an amazing start to our morning. I love taking inexperienced grumpy rich dudes up mountains and across plains and into small cabins for fancy expensive meals. I'm not even remotely bitter that they pay so much to be here. I could use that money to buy an entire acre of property and they throw it away like it's nothing.

Bee, who is working the counter of the shop today, hides her laughter behind her hand. "Does he know he's not going to need the snowshoes until later?"

"I tried to tell him, but he just said he knew what he was doing and didn't need my help and then mumbled something about someone having the worst taste in activities and, I quote, 'why couldn't they have just gone golfing or something?'"

"Oh, you're going to have fun with him," she laughs, drawing his glare, which only incites us to more laughter.

"His client isn't even meeting us until we're up the mountain. I talked to Harley, and he says this man booked a whole excursion up the mountain to prove to the client guy that he likes the outdoors."

"Sounds like a lot of work just for a bit of money."

"Oh, it's a lot of money. So much money, in fact, that he tried to convince Harley to let him hire a helicopter to get us most of the way there so we could hike up a bit and make it seem like he hiked the whole way."

"There's no place for a helicopter to land up there, at least not in weather like this."

"Exactly, and when Harley explained that to Mr. Cranky Pants over there, he apparently said, 'perfect, that'll make it more believable.'"

"Believable? Is he planning to jump out of the helicopter before he begins his hike?" She rolls her eyes and then pauses to look at her bright red nails. "Actually, that might be kinda fun. Does he want to rethink the helicopter idea? I'd jump out of a helicopter with him."

I start laughing, drawing more attention from Mr. Cranky Pants, who I should probably start calling by his name before I accidentally call him that to his face.

"Oh, my God," Bee gasps, covering her mouth. "I didn't mean it like that."

"Then you shouldn't have said you'd jump out of a plane for him." I shrug and steal an almond from the snack bowl she's always hiding behind the counter.

"I said I'd jump out of a helicopter WITH him. There's a difference."

"A very negligible one," I admit, snacking on Bee's almonds and watching Damien struggle with his snowshoe he's not even supposed to be putting on.

"You should probably go convince him to pack his bag right or you're never going to make it before his meeting."

"I know. There's supposed to be a small storm coming in, too, so I have to get us there to the cabin before it blows in." I check my watch. There's still plenty of time. We're risking it a little bit at the end. It's possible we may get stuck up there. But there's food and heat and I get paid overtime which I desperately need so who am I to complain?

"Here," she says, sliding me the trip pack across the counter. "Keep your radio on, kid. Or I'll come up there and get you myself."

"I'm not even seven years younger than you, Bee."

"When you pass thirty, you get to call everyone in their twenties a kid," she says with a shrug. "It's like a perk for your whole body starting to fall apart."

"Something to look forward to, then."

"Go get 'em, tiger," she says. She thinks she's picking up Canadian slang after all these years working here, but I'm not sure where she's getting her information.

I wave her off with a smile and shove the kit under my arm, making my way over to the man who looks like he doesn't even know how to work a gas stove, some snowshoes, and two packed bags. Normally, we make adventurers pack their own bags, so they can learn how to do it.

But this guy... This Guy has paid almost triple the regular fee so that I will not try to teach him anything. I had to pack his backpack and make his food provisions (with a very detailed list of nutritional information provided to me by his nutritionist by way of his assistant).

I'm also required to keep my mouth shut and only communicate necessary information (I'm definitely not doing that one). And I have to pretend I didn't do any of those things when we get to the cabin where he is meeting his potential client.

I don't know what this man does. All I know is that it's something in business and he's managed to work his way up to partner in the biggest firm in the country. An impressive feat because he is only thirty-five.

Yeah, I looked him up. I don't want to be alone in the woods with a rich weirdo who thinks he owns everyone. Or at least not one I know nothing about.

I finally reach him and his pile of gear. "Hello, Damien." I reach out my hand. "I'm Amelia and I'll be your guide this morning."

"Mr. Serrano, please, Amelia." He doesn't shake my hand.

"Fine, Mr. Serrano then." I plop my pack down on the floor and don't bother looking at him when I say, "I'm Miss Conti and I'll be your guide this morning."

"The deal is we don't talk." He says as though it's a reasonable reply. "Let's go."

"No." I shake my head firmly, standing to my full height. Which, admittedly, still has me staring right at his chest. "The deal was I only communicate things that are necessary to keep you and me alive. But I suspect you'll also want me to let you know what's in your bag and where to find everything."

"Why would I need a bag?" He stares at it. "Can't you just bring what we need?"

Am I talking to a toddler? Three. The warm gust of air from the furnace hits my face. Two. Bee crunches an almond, fingers tapping away on her keys. One. My trip kit weighs heavy under my arm. I set it down.

"No, I cannot bring everything we need because I do not want you to die if we are separated."

His face blanches, and he fully stops moving, staring me in the face with the first sliver of an emotion that isn't disgust I've seen all day.

It makes me feel a bit bad for the harsh delivery. "We're unlikely to get separated but I need everyone to be safe. And I need to know you're able to follow the rules or I'm not taking you up there today. You might be in charge everywhere else but when it comes to this mountain, you listen to me or I stop the trip. Do you understand?"

He doesn't say anything.

"And as for where things are, I thought you might want to know so you can impress your client with your vast knowledge of all the mountaineering gear you packed for our trip. I highly doubt he's going to buy the fact that you did this on purpose and never bothered to learn what any of the equipment is called. When people come here for fun, that's part of what they pay for."

He looks like someone has just shoved a whole lemon into his mouth. Lips pursed, cheeks puffed, eyes dark and narrow.

"Now," I say, ignoring his lack of response. "If we're going to get out of here in time to make it to your meeting, we're going to need to hook those snowshoes onto your bag and get you strapped in and agreeing to the rules in the next thirteen or so minutes."

He's still not saying anything, so I have a feeling I'm going to have to force him into it right at the end in order for the cameras to pick up the fact that I made my best effort. If I can't do that, I won't get paid. And I need to get paid.

But if I'm honest, I really want to take this trip, too. No one books these. They are outrageously expensive and time consuming and most people who want to make the trip are already experienced enough not to need a guide. Most of my job is shepherding work groups and school children and lonely single people up to nearby cabins and teaching them a little about chopping wood.

This is something I could never do on my own. The cabin rental alone is what I make in a month.

I really want this trip to work.

But I'm not compromising anyone's safety. And that part is all he needs to know.

Not bothering to ask him to help, I tie off my snowshoes onto my pack and sit on the floor while I stash all the parts of the trip package into my bag until finally I only have the two radios. I shove one in my pocket and hold the other out to him.

When I turn to face him, I'm surprised to see him struggling with the knot on his own snowshoes.

"Can I help you with that?" I offer. "There's a trick to the knot."

"I can—"

"Why do you always assume my offers of help mean I think you can't do things yourself? Is it so bad to let someone help you, Mr. Serrano?"

"I'm not answering that," he says. "Go ahead. Tie the knot." His face is oddly smug for a person who couldn't get a rope tied only moments ago.

I hand him the radio and even with his mittens on I can feel his strong fingers curl around mine for just a second before they release me and grip the radio.

"Thanks," he says, wiggling the dials around and then sticking it in his pocket.

I do not have time for this. We'll go over stations and signals while we walk, I guess.

I make quick work of tying off his snowshoes and he makes absolutely no move to thank me or acknowledge my help. But I don't care. I'm going to hike the whole mountain today and nothing he can do is going to take away that joy.

"Can we go?" He asks while I strap my pack on.

"Once you have your pack and I've briefed you on the rules, then we can go." I pull the strap to adjust the weight more evenly and end up being a little too aggressive. A quick tug of the buckle loosens it enough that I'm comfortable again.

"I've already been sent a copy of the rules," he grumbles, heaving the heavy bag off the ground and rotating it around him until it rests on his back. He fumbles the clips a time or two and struggles to adjust anything but I'm not going to be the one to ask if he needs help this time. No thank you.

"Aren't you going to help me?" he complains when the third adjustment noticeably pinches his left shoulder.

"Aren't you going to ask?" I tease back.

"I just did."

"No you didn't."

"Yes," he bites, "I did."

"You really are a delight, Sir." I put on my cheekiest smile and point to the strap. "Pull here."

He does, briefly tugging on the loose strap until it is snug around his waist.

"There. All better." I pull on my toque and hood and tuck my mittens into my pocket. I need my hands for a few more explanations.

"Let's go," he says, pulling his own outerwear on so the only thing I can see is a little part of his eyes covered by glasses and a thick pair of snow goggles.

"Not so fast, buck-o," I hold up a hand. "We still have to go through the rules."

"I said I've already seen the rules."

"And I said I never take anyone anywhere without making sure everyone's going to be safe. So you listen to the rules or we don't go. That's how it works." I know his type. I used to live with his type. They don't read things like this. They have them sent to their assistant and then ask for a five second paraphrased version that never covers everything how it should. Which is fair, because these assistants aren't paid nearly enough to figure everything out.

But I know his type. So he hears the rules and I believe he will follow them or I don't go.

His glare deepens. I don't back down.

"Fine. What are the rules?" he relents.

"I thought you knew them," I bite back.

"I think it'll be faster if you just tell them to me and time is money. I've already spent a lot of it here this morning and I'm not a fan of losing money."

This is going to be a very long day. 

~ * ~ Author's Note ~ * ~ 

I can't believe we passed 2000 words in just the first chapter of this one! But I also can, because I love these characters and their set up deserved the time and space to show everything off. I can't wait to share the next part with you, so I'll see you next week for chapter two. 

Would you take a winter hike? Or would you rather do some other type of activity like skiing/snowboarding or staying inside to watch a movie? 

~ * ~ Other Novellas ~ * ~ 

In case I haven't shared it with you yet, I also have four other ONC novellas. They (and all my other books) can be found on my profile authorelizasolares . More information below! 

Hang it Up: Contemporary Rom-Com novella, marriage of convenience, one bed, prompt #5.

Two best friends / ballet dancers who are high on adventure and low on cash must share a small one bedroom apartment with one bed. But to do that, they're going to need to be married. Like, for real.

Love, Lies & Red Eyes: Paranormal Romance novella, forced proximity, prompt #52.

Spunky Anthropologist and brooding dog-shifter cadejo form a mutually beneficial relationship, but hiding out together starts to blur the line of the professional boundaries. Okay, those were gone from the moment they kissed.

Runaway Fiancés: Historical Romance novella, fake marriage, one bed, prompt #9.

In historical Spain, two strangers manage to escape engagements they don't want. Pretending to be married gives him purpose and her protection. But it won't be enough to evade their powerful fathers for long.

Don't Want to be Queen: Comedy-Romance novella, rivals to lovers, unrequited love, prompt #49.

Two sisters. One kingdom. An outrageous and outdated belief about queens being married. But if they're going to outwit their father, they're going to need a well-connected man on the inside. A man who happens to be the long time crush of the younger sister.